I went to the Farmers Market today, downtown Provo off of Center St. then I thought I should take a drive past the old neighborhood where I grew up.
Reams is gone, the cartoonish Scottish man in a Kilt is no longer standing sentinel on the corner. The corner where my cousin and I passed by on our walks down center street bare footed. The corner where the bag broke that held our zebra fish (we buried them in my strawberry garden and named them after members of the Greatful Dead).
I filled up at the Maverik station that is there now and then headed over to visit some old haunts. Noting along the way what has changed, who used to live where. Elizabeth, who's family moved to Alaska. The triplets, identical except for the moles on their faces. The corner where bees ran after me.
I came to a stop when the street I used to travel, which lead around the back of my home, circumnavigating "The Snake Pit" ended abruptly.
The "Snake Pit" is gone.
My sacred ground.
It's gone
I used to wonder at my Dad for stubbornly staying put at the duplex where I grew up. At times I would shout at him in my head in frustration, why are we staying here!! This place is a dump! My brother and I ruined the linoleum in the kitchen when we made it into our "Swimming Pool." The bathroom sub-floor was coming up (it was awful).
BUT
We had the freedom of the back yard. Through a magical hole in the fence we could climb into another world. The path would take us through the brambles and bushes, through the magnificent trees, to the "Fairy Valley" and our cat tree (a grand tree that marked the graves of kitties who had passed on). We could roll down the hills of the sand dunes, and revel in the grand hill that we could roll head over heals on in the summer and ski down in the winter (the hill wasn't as large as I make it out to be though).
We fed the fairies sugar, to invite their presence. We discovered patches of tulips, and snake grass. We made up stories about the cats "Casino" in the bushes, which they got to by following the "Cat Tunnels."
We made a pirate ship out of a piece of plywood thrown on some bushes. That was great fun!
The trees, stupid "Chinese Elms" and their "White Things" so called seeds of the "Chinese Elms." BUT we loved them despite it all. They grew so tall! I don't know how many times my brother got caught up in them and I had to run for my dad to get his ladder.
We had the BEST rope swing! We had a somewhat failed attempt at a zip line as well.
I was lulled to sleep at night by the sound of the wind rushing through the trees making their leaves dance and branches sway.
I ran into the woods when confused or frightened. When nothing made sense. I went there to grieve when I lost my pregnancies. I "buried" my babies there.
The Snake Pit is gone.
But it still lives in my heart.
My child self still skips through the woods, searching for home.
My adult self wishes I could give my children the same type of space. The world is getting crowded, I miss the simplicity of the woods.
Reams is gone, the cartoonish Scottish man in a Kilt is no longer standing sentinel on the corner. The corner where my cousin and I passed by on our walks down center street bare footed. The corner where the bag broke that held our zebra fish (we buried them in my strawberry garden and named them after members of the Greatful Dead).
I filled up at the Maverik station that is there now and then headed over to visit some old haunts. Noting along the way what has changed, who used to live where. Elizabeth, who's family moved to Alaska. The triplets, identical except for the moles on their faces. The corner where bees ran after me.
I came to a stop when the street I used to travel, which lead around the back of my home, circumnavigating "The Snake Pit" ended abruptly.
The "Snake Pit" is gone.
My sacred ground.
It's gone
I used to wonder at my Dad for stubbornly staying put at the duplex where I grew up. At times I would shout at him in my head in frustration, why are we staying here!! This place is a dump! My brother and I ruined the linoleum in the kitchen when we made it into our "Swimming Pool." The bathroom sub-floor was coming up (it was awful).
BUT
We had the freedom of the back yard. Through a magical hole in the fence we could climb into another world. The path would take us through the brambles and bushes, through the magnificent trees, to the "Fairy Valley" and our cat tree (a grand tree that marked the graves of kitties who had passed on). We could roll down the hills of the sand dunes, and revel in the grand hill that we could roll head over heals on in the summer and ski down in the winter (the hill wasn't as large as I make it out to be though).
We fed the fairies sugar, to invite their presence. We discovered patches of tulips, and snake grass. We made up stories about the cats "Casino" in the bushes, which they got to by following the "Cat Tunnels."
We made a pirate ship out of a piece of plywood thrown on some bushes. That was great fun!
The trees, stupid "Chinese Elms" and their "White Things" so called seeds of the "Chinese Elms." BUT we loved them despite it all. They grew so tall! I don't know how many times my brother got caught up in them and I had to run for my dad to get his ladder.
We had the BEST rope swing! We had a somewhat failed attempt at a zip line as well.
I was lulled to sleep at night by the sound of the wind rushing through the trees making their leaves dance and branches sway.
I ran into the woods when confused or frightened. When nothing made sense. I went there to grieve when I lost my pregnancies. I "buried" my babies there.
The Snake Pit is gone.
But it still lives in my heart.
My child self still skips through the woods, searching for home.
My adult self wishes I could give my children the same type of space. The world is getting crowded, I miss the simplicity of the woods.
